Carry me to heaven
by QWERTYsweetheart
Summary: Carol is sat in the dark room after the prison is overrun by Walkers because of one of the prisoners, thinking over the group, Sofia and Daryl. Set during Season 3, Say the Word.
1. Part One

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own The Walking Dead or any characters and places associated with Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore and Charlie Adlard's story or Frank Darabont's adaptation. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction.

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It was nice to hear nothing for a change. For the first time since the pandemic, Carol leant her head back and with eyes closed against the blackness, dissolved herself in the silence. The footsteps and accompanying groans for the walkers had long done, and with it her fear. Yes, she could die here peacefully, locked away from everyone else with a smile on her face. The others would have got to safety and they had Rick; he would secure everything, make sure they were okay. They would forget about her for the most part, only flitting across their minds every now and again, just a gentle reminder of the times they brought smiles to each other's faces, and she would be with Sofia soon.

She didn't know how many days had gone by when she finally heard movement from outside her little room. She didn't even know if it had been days. All she know what that her throat stung with thirst and her eyes so dry from dehydration that she could barely open them.

This was the end, she knew it. She bowed her head in prayer, prayer that it would come before the door was pried open by the hungry bundles of rotten flesh on the other end. The group is fine, they have Rick and he will have his baby. Poor thing, so cute. Breathe deeply. Maggie and Glenn, so happy. They might have a baby too. Families, new civilisation. Hope for the human race. Hope for them all.

Hope… She breathed in deeply. Daryl.

She smiled weakly, or attempted too as the door finally gave way.

The light broke through, so bright she would have winced away if there was any energy left to do so but she had waited the last of it on the smile. Glancing up she saw his face framed with light like he was a prince out of a fairytale. _Come to take me to heaven_, she through with joy and humour.

Strong arms closed around her, lifting her like she was nothing. Secure, safe for the first time she could remember. She buried her head into his chest. Warm, soft. _Carry me to heaven Daryl, keep me safe until we are there. Take me to Sofia. _Soft hands soothed the back of her arms, his sweet voice muttering to her lightly, carrying her into unconsciousness.

The light faded out, her eyes closed.

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Continue to Part Two.


	2. Part Two

...The light faded out, her eyes closed.

Carol was awake but barely so and in a disorientate haze she opening her eyes as far as she could without the irritation becoming unbearable. She laid back, head propped up against a warm lap and a metal flask pressed against her lips. The fresh liquid spilled into her mouth and she drank until she felt it raising back her throat, wanting to feel sick with water. The voice spoke to her softly. She didn't know what it was saying but she knew who it belong too. She shifted, straining to look up at Daryl as her heavy head weighed her back down.

It had occurred to her the moment she awoke that she was not only alive, but she was back in the cell. She could feel the warm and comfort, the homely feel that could only be found when a selection of unlikely people grouped together to create something reminiscent of the past.

The voice drew her back and once again she strained to look at him, feeling a hand cup hers gently. She closed her fingers around them tight; they moved effortlessly in her grip but never once pulled away. Smiling softly she turned on her side, letting water spill down her cheeks.

"I…" She struggled to catch her breath, coughing thickly "I was dead."

"Yeah, you were." Daryl replied, gravelly voice swallowing back a struggle… discomfort maybe. No, no it was something else. She couldn't tell. He let her hand go, stretching out her fingers and pressing something into her palm lightly. "I put this on your grave, a little prayer I guess."

The petals of the Cherokee rose felt like milk and honey against her dry skin, it sent shots of happiness up her arm to pool comfy and warm in her chest, and something she hadn't felt since Daryl had taken her to see them tangled in the grass by the riverside as they searched for Sofia. She raised it to eye level, pressing it against her lips. It had the same effect and she let her heavy eyes close again.

"I thought you didn't believe in hoping and praying. A waste of time, you said."

Daryl snickered, taking her hand again but made no reply.

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Thanks for reading!


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